


all we want (is an opportunity)

by liionne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, M/M, Minor Violence, Prohibition, and so here we are, basically i watched the first season of boardwalk empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is new to the importation business, working as a lackey for Natasha Romanov, and Steve is potentially the dirtiest federal agent in the entire US. Things are certainly going to get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all we want (is an opportunity)

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the tags, I watched Boardwalk Empire, and this happened. And I know there'll be some historical inaccuracies in here, but it's a work of fiction. Still, anyone wants anything corrected, let me know!
> 
> If this is popular I might actually plan out where I want it to go, but for now it'll just be following their lives, I guess.
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes!

Bucky's not been in this game very long. Or well, at all. It's his first day on the job and as his fingers tap the barrel of the pistol, so careful not to touch the trigger, he cannot help but fidget. Out the front, Natasha stands and smiles. Money changes hand, and she comes back in the car.

"He's loading it into the trunk." She says, smoothing out her skirt. "Go stand at the back and make sure they don't try anything."

Bucky nods; he did only come here to be her lackey, after all. He slips out of the truck and heads to the back, gun pointed at the ground as he goes.

There is only one man loading booze into the truck, and Bucky's a little underwhelmed, to be honest. He had expected massive operations, hundreds of people packing crates into big, huge lorries which would rumble back to Manhattan to spread the booze around, but it's just one man loading cases full of Scotch into the back of his boss' car.

Things do heat up when, out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees the fella pocket a bottle of whiskey. Knowing that Natasha has already paid him and his cronies, Bucky aims, and fires, shoots a hole in the back of his hand. He screams, but no one comes to help him or anything. Bucky takes the bottle, puts it back into the box, and then puts the last box in the car. He moves around to the front, gets in, and gives Natasha a smile.

"All set." He tells her, and she nods. Her driver - of course she wouldn't drive - pulls away, back into the city, and out of therear view mirror, Bucky can see the man clutching his hand and sobbing.

It's a pretty easy first day.

~*~

Steve Rogers is - was - one of the most feared prohibition officers in the city. Hell, maybe the state. He answered directly to Eliot Ness, he was in charge of his own team, he was a good cop.

But now, when he tips his hat and shows his face at the peep hole, they let him into Stark's without a word.

So yeah, he was a good prohibition officer. But then he realised just how corrupt everyone else was, and how the law wasn't really doing any good, and his loyalty shifted. He answers direct to Eliot Ness, but he does a lot of covering up. He's good like that.

He steps inside of Stark's and lets the smell of whisky and the warmth from all the bodies hit him head on, and he exhales in a gust. At the bar, he gives Barton a tight smile, and pulls up his usual stool.

"The usual, Cap?" He asks, and Steve nods. "The usual."

There's a grating sound, the sound of wood against the floor, and it causes Steve to wince. It doesn't affect Barton, but then Barton's been partially deaf ever since someone shot a rifle too close to his head. He's lucky he managed to keep his face, and he knows as much, so he figures a partial loss of hearing is fair enough.

But it causes Steve to look, and what he sees takes his breath away. The guy is at least six foot, obviously muscled, his dark hair swept back but a few locks falling into his face. His lips are pursed as he drags apile of crates across the floor, and Natasha sweeps in behind him, slipping in behind the bar and pouring out a glass of Port and a shot of Vodka.

"There are you, James." She says, when the crates have been dragged away from the bar and towards the cellar; they'll no doubt be unpacked later. "Your upfront payment. The rest'll come tomorrow, once Stark's been."

Natasha's word is as good as any, and so the fella - _James_ \- takes the shot, and then sips the liquid in the tumbler, pulling himself up at the bar.

"We haven't got another run until Thursday," Natasha explains, and even though her voice is low, talking only to James, he can hear her, which must mean she wants to be heard. "But it's a tricky one. The Feds are watching the border like a hawk and the guys over in Canada don't want to come over the border at all, and they don't want us driving in there, so we're having to meet in the middle." She looks up, then, at Steve. "Are you going to help us out?"

"I'm going to lose my job at this rate." Steve says, setting his glass down on the bar. He runs his thumb over the rim; it's a yes, just a subtle one.

Natasha gives a feline grin, pouring herself her own shot of vodka. "There's always a vacancy for you here, Steve."

All he does is shrug his shoulders; James is staring at him, storm grey eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. All Steve does in response is turn back to the bar, and try not to blush.

~*~

Two fellas being together is more acceptable now than it was a decade ago, but it's still pretty unheard of, and it's still pretty hush hush. James knows that because he's been a part of that, he's been pressed into the corner of clubs and the walls of back allies with a hand clamped over his mouth to silence himself more times than he can count. But god, he'd stick his tongue down this fella's throat right at the bar if he thought he'd let him. He's hot, shirt straining against his muscles, hair perfectly scraped back, face so pretty Bucky wants to immortalise it in stone. It's only when he moves closer, once Natasha's gone, that he notices just how long his lashes are. The fan out against his cheek, dark against his pale skin, and Bucky feels his heart skip a beat. Longer than any dame's he's ever seen, he's sure.

"So you're Nat's friend?" He surmises, swirling the last drops of drink around his glass before he knocks them back.

"Yeah," He nods, and he does the same, knocking back his drink. Barton's off serving another customer, though, and there's only one barman with being kind of early. "Helped her out of a sticky situation a few years back, and we've been pretty close ever since."

"She's a good gal." Bucky nods. Better than any suspect, he thinks, but he doesn't add that.

The other guy, Steve, pauses, and Bucky thinks for a moment that their conversation is over. But then he turns to look at him again, pale blue eyes meeting his own, and he feels a littlelight headed.

"I haven't seen you around here before," He says, obviously pondering as he speaks. "Are you new?"

Bucky nods, giing a small smile. He runs his fingers along the rim of his glass, as he had seen Steve do before. "Yeh. Yeah, I am. James Barnes-" He extends a hand, eyes twinkling. "But you can call me Bucky."

"Bucky." He nods, and takes his hand. He gives it a generous shake, before letting it drop. "Steve Rogers."

Steve puts his hat on his head, and shrugs back into his jacket. He claps a hand on BUcky's shoulder, and Bucky feels a tingle run down his spine. "Just stay safe." Steve warns, and it almost feels personal, like Steve really cares. He can't, surely? He doesn't even know Bucky.

Bucky watches him go, and sighs softly. Never mind. He's probably not going to see the guy ever again.

~*~

Steve leaves the bar a good three hours earlier than he meant to, the cold air giving him a chill. He looks back at the club and steps out carefully into the street.

He's never fancied a fella before, but, well- Bucky's prettier than any dame he's ever seen.

And Steve's in a lot more shit than he used to be.


End file.
